


2 Meatballs and a Samwhich

by fatcr0w



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Bucky and Steve are hot for Sam's tail, F/F, Fluff, M/M, Misunderstandings, Nat x Sharon for 2 entire sentences, Polyamory, Self Confidence Issues, mentioned - Freeform, poor sam underestimates how adorable he is, sharon carter - Freeform, they are the masterminds but not the main point
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-24
Updated: 2015-08-24
Packaged: 2018-04-17 02:50:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4649403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fatcr0w/pseuds/fatcr0w
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam has been there for Steve and Bucky all through their journey back to one another, but even though he's always watching them, he gets an important detail wrong. </p><p>Or: Steve and Bucky want to tap that Falcon ass. <br/>Rated T for 'Language'</p>
            </blockquote>





	2 Meatballs and a Samwhich

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't beta this, and the plot is based off of my favorite bara manga. Written for Tumblr!

No human on Earth could compare with Captain America's physique, but Sam would be damned if he didn't try. Today was gymnastic training, surprisingly without Natasha. 

"And here I thought you were the expert on all things gymnastic."

Nat shook her head from her position on the mat. They were stretching. Well, SHE was stretching, and Sam was bending awkwardly as he listened to his bones crackle. 

"Two different styles, think cheerleading versus Olympic floor," she said in the midst of her own stretching, her legs pressed parallel to the ground as she rolled from side split to center, then to the other side, and then had the audacity to touch her toes. Sam shifted uncomfortably, his own legs aching by association. 

"Not that cheerleading is lesser by any means," Nat pointed her toes down in an arch as she leaned forward, laying her chest on the ground casually, like this was the most natural position in the world, "It's just... different. Mine's all ground work, whoever taught Steve went more strength based and airborne. More your style."

Sam nodded sagely, he didn't really understand, but Nat WAS the expert, so he deferred to her judgement. 

It made sense now, training backflips in one of the facility's many, vast workout rooms. This one was outfitted with a retractable trampoline. There was no need to crunch Sam's relatively fragile bones when he tried his first backflip-kick. Still hurt like hell though, landing on his face entirely, advanced trampoline or not. 

Steve smiled, but didn't laugh, "I landed like that a few times myself," he said as he offered his hand to help him up on the strangely wiggling floor, "But Gabe said it was what made me so good at taking hits to the face." 

"So that's the secret?"

"That's the secret." Steve chuckled, he placed his hand gently on Sam's lower back, ostensibly to spot him, but it felt warmer than just gym safety. Sam did his best to focus his eyes forward. This was nothing. There was nothing to read into. 

"Now remember, jump UP, not backwards."

It was pretty hard to remember with the hand on his back, fingers splayed wide over the thin workout shirt he wore, just above the hem of his sweats. But he took a deep breath, jumped up, and made it.

Though he could have stuck the landing a little better. 

~~~~~  
Tuesdays were for weapons training. The agents in R&D would make several new, strange weapons of various forms and styles and plant them in the simulator. The goal was to acquire, assess, utilize. James...Bucky came up with it, since apparently actively training the Winter Soldier had been less of a priority than simply deploying him. He'd learned most modern weapon (and other) technology on the fly, usually with bullets flying at him. It was a good skill to have. 

Steve and Nat were out, on a breifing meeting for a short mission where her stealth combined with his visibility were essential. The rest of the team had no real need for the drill, Rhodes with his internal and nigh inexhaustible arsenal, Wanda with her abilities, and Vision being well, Vision, they usually left this particular simulator to the mere super-serum-humans (and Sam).

Without the two extra bodies, the simulation wasn't very helpful, there were too many guns and randomized arrays meant that one of them always got the dummy shooter. Instead, they were just on the rifle range simulator. Sam was able to access points in a few seconds that would take the rest of the team several minutes to secure. Bucky appointed him as backup emergency sniper, and that meant getting his skills up to snuff.

It also meant Bucky was very thoroughly adjusting his posture, his hands adjusting his shoulders as he splayed out on the thin mat with his eye to the rifle scope ("Both eyes open, even if you wanna squint"). Sam wondered if he was making too much of it as he felt his cheeks heat up. Bucky adjusted his arms around the rifle, leaning down so his mouth was flush with Sam's ear, "Now, line it up how I showed ya, then take the shot when you're ready"

Sam did his best to concentrate on the illusion of a HYDRA agent guarding a nondescript building, but Bucky was so close, he could feel the heat radiating off of him, hear the slight clicking that the muscle strands made when he moved. Sam took a deep breath, tried to focus on the false heat signature. He wasn't going to pay any attention to his racing heartbeat, though he was sure Bucky could feel it where his hand casually rested along his thigh.

No. He wouldn't. He was reading too much into Bucky's closeness. There was nothing there, except a budding friendship, he was sure. 

Clenching his teeth he took the shot, the rifle popping powerfully into his shoulder, just like a live one. At the end of the scope, the Hydra agent fell, struck in the gut, not the head. 

"Close," was the soft chuckle in his ear, tickling along the back of his neck"But no cigar. Let's try it again"

~~~~  
Sam was doing his very best to pull back, give Steve and Bucky their space to readjust to having each other around again. He'd been in Steve's pocket (and Steve in his) for the entire two year search for Bucky, give or take a few near-apocalyptic scenarios. 

They logged hundreds of thousands of miles on the road and in the air, talked about everything under the sun just to fill up the silence when radio cut out somewhere between Amarillo and Fort Worth and they’d heard every song on Sam’s ipod twice. He felt closer to Steve than he did his own brother at times like those. And yea, the attraction was there, but it would have been a dick move to take advantage of his vulnerability at that crossroad. Every time he wanted to, every time they were stuck sharing a bed because it was a Saturday night and every hotel was booked solid, he closed his eyes and thought of how he’d feel if it were Riley running around out there with no memories of himself, no memories of what they had before, how he’d feel if it was his believed-dead best friend out there. No, he couldn’t do that. 

So he shoved it deep down and away. 

Then they found Bucky, and not much longer after that the world decided to go to shit for a while. There wasn’t time to think, let along revisit his feelings for the big-blonde champion of justice. He wasn't going to think about Mr. Tall-Dark-and-totally-his-type either. That was an entire can of worms he just wasn't ready to open. 

Sam thought it would be easier, when Bucky came back. He'd kept his love to himself all those nights on the road thinking about how Steve and Bucky would run into each other's arms like some kind of terrible Harlequin romance, and they'd get Bucky on the road to recovery and Sam could restart his OkCupid account once he figured out a Natasha-proof password. 

But it wasn't happening. Now it's nearly a year since they found Bucky, and while he's not the same guy he was in 1940, neither is Steve and though they're close, it just doesn't look like the grand love affair that he and half the world was expecting. Was it him? Sam thought on worse days, days when he avoided the complex altogether and went down to Harlem or even DC to see his friends and drink among mortals.

So he drew back, drew in on himself. He started hanging out with Rhodes, Fury, some friends he had back in Harlem and Brooklyn. He spends time with Steve, and Bucky, and Nat, and Clint, and hell, Tony (with Rhodey there to stop the inevitable fisticuffs over music choice). He goes to ball games with them, does everything a good friend would do, but makes sure not to intrude, not to insinuate himself into a romance that’s been brweing for the better part of a century. 

The hole in his heart will get smaller some day. He knows this, he’s been through this before. 

~~~~~~~~

You’d think they’d discovered a(nother) damning military secret, as serious as the two men looked over their respective cups of paint-peeling coffee. Steve and Bucky lived together in Steve’s mini-mansion (Stark apologized rarely, but when he did, it was extravagant.) partially on account of Stark not knowing beforehand that Bucky would be a permanent part of daily life, and partially because everyone slept better with the winter soldier under guard. The probationary period for Bucky had ended a while ago, he was free to go about the country as it were, but something about having a routine so similar to before kept him around. 

“It’s like he doesn’t even know I exist,” Bucky groaned, running his hand through short hair that had yet to be combed into his slick, modern style. He’d gotten it cut when Sam had complimented his cheekbones the day he wore his hair up. It was a stupid reason but he liked the way his face looked anyway. The barber Nat suggested was a prodigy. 

“Better than being purposely ignored,”Steve grumbled into his own mug, a silly, glittery, star-spangled thing that Sam’s nieces gave him for Christmas last year. He drank from it religiously and hand washed it with care. Bucky got a decorated picture frame with a picture of him being used as a jungle gym by rowdy toddlers and it was proudly hung right next to the front door. 

“Psh! You mean to say he doesn’t make googoo eyes at you even though you purposely switched back to the tight-ass costume?”Bucky scoffed, frowning into his mug. 

Steve rubbed his face, “The beard didn’t work either. Nor did basically lying myself out on a platter for him… All those private sessions in the gym...I know he’s into guys!” Steve frowned, “And if he has a type…”

“What if he’s completely over the big-corn-fed white boy schtick? Ya know, because of…” Bucky offered, his left hard digging into the wood of the table with a slight cracking noise. 

Steve shook his head, "It's gotta be something more than that, he's been...distant lately," Steve's frown deepened, "I don't like it"

"To be fair the man spends 95% of his time around us, even I get tired of your shit sometimes Stevie" 

Bucky Barnes was soundly unimpressed when Captain America flipped him the bird. He sipped his own coffee, nonchalant, "Well it's true."

"He spent two years sharing motel rooms and rental cars searching for your ass and he wasn't tired of me then," Steve shot back. 

"Yet you never had the cojones to kiss him?" 

"We were both a little pre occupied cleaning up that trail of dead bodies... And you're one to talk Mr. Private Rifle Lessons. No one teaches shooting laying down next to the trainee."

Bucky puffed up, blushing," Not like he's gotten the hint anyway." 

"It's like he's gotten the opposite idea" Steve groaned, his tactical mind suddenly cataloguing Sam's reactions to everything, the casual distance starting the moment they'd found Bucky. 

"So what you're saying is, he thinks we're the item and he's the third wheel?"

"Fuck," Steve let out a long drawn out groan, burying his face in his hands, "How did we miss that?"

"They didn't draftt us for our smarts Stevie" Bucky sounded just as defeated.

"So what are we gonna do now?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~  
"Sam, can I talk to you for a minute?" Steve looked so earnest, though Sam had a strict policy on counseling (the policy being that he wasn't a counselor) he would at least listen to the guy. 

"Yea man, what's up?" Sam stepped out of the shower cubicle dressed in his boxers and tank. A single towel barrier between himself and the top-billed star of his wet dreams would not help on his mission to stay out of the way. 

"This might be..sudden" Steve scratched the back of his neck, looking at his feet as he shifted, "But...I've been in love with someone for a very long time...He's my friend though, so I couldn't confess" 

Sam very consciously kept his eyebrows in a neutral position. He couldn't believe that Steve hadn't confessed his love to Bucky. But there was no time like the present, and perhaps the entire past had been the wrong time. 

Sam smiled, big and broad, "It's very brave of you to wait this long, you were just protecting something important to you, right?"

Steve nodded, his entire body blushing from head to toe. 

"I believe in you man, just tell him! He's coming in for strength testing in a few moments right? I'll get out the way," Sam said as he shimmied into his lounge pants, clenching his teeth into what he hoped was a supportive smile. 

Steve stood there like a gasping fish, tryingto process what just happened.

Or, that's what Bucky said when he came in to find Steve standing like a statue after passing a very determined and fast-walking Sam in the hallway. 

"You tried subtle Steve? You know you are shit at subtle!"

"He jumped to his own conclusions Buck, I couldn't get a word in edgewise."

"I guess I've got to take care of this." the ex-assassin said, his face falling into a mask of determination. 

~~~  
"Hey Sam," Bucky asked at the end of their next rifle training, "Steve say anything about me?"

Sam's eye brightened, but from the respectable distance Bucky was at, he couldn't tell if it was a good thing. Bucky blushed ,looking away from the soft-hearted smile on Sam's face, momentarily forgetting what he'd planned on saying. He snapped alert when a warm hand rested on his shoulder. 

"It's all gonna work out, just tell him how you feel," Sam offered with a squeeze, exiting the range.

~~~~~~  
One Week Later  
~~~~~~

There were two things on Earth, in the galaxy really, that both Steve and Bucky feared equally. One was disappointing Sam, the other, was incurring the wrath of Natasha. It seemed that Tuesday was a red letter day, because she came storming into Steve's home, eyes flashing as red as her hair. There was still a smudge of gunpowder on her cheek from the mission she'd been away on the past two weeks. 

The two men were helpless in the face of her assessing gaze, standing stock still like deer in headlights with the kitchen island a paltry barrier between them. Bucky casually pressed the kife block further away, as if that would save him. 

"H-Hey Na-"

"Steven. Jospeh. Grant. Rogers."

"That's not even his midd-"

"JAMES. WILLIAM. BUCHANAN. FREDERICK. BARNES" Natasha slammed her hand on the granite countertop, causing both to jump to attention, "Why is it, that, after I come back from a relaxing vacation," she gestured to her hair, which was frizzed from a magnetic field, if the news was to be believed, "To a very depressed Sam Wilson, asking if I know any guys who might be his type? IF I knew anyone who could go on a blind date with him? When CLEARLY, he's got not one, but two very eligible suitors in the same compound?"

During her tirade Nat had stalked over to them, right in their personal space, her tiny, dancer's frame somehow seeming 10 feet tall and terrifying. 

"He... He blew us off," Steve sighed, running his hand through his hair. Bucky nodded solemnly beside him.

Natasha let out a groan, rolling her eyes, "The pair of you don't have a coupla brain cells to rub together, do you?!" 

She stomped off towards Steve's closet, hauling out clothes like she was the one who put them there, "You two are going to do this my way, and if you fuck it up, then I've got a nice, long list of nice guys to take Sam out and kiss him on the first date! Like you should have!" 

Both Steve and Bucky blanched. This was going to be something. 

~~~~~~  
Sam was resolute as he adjusted the collar on his bright red shirt. Two buttons open, slim fit, grey slacks, his dancing shoes. Nat had acquiesced his his request for a blind date, giving him a sad but understanding smile. He'd confided his ...crushes to her over beer like a twenty year old kid and she hadn't made fun of him, just offered to help, and now that it all panned out like this, well, she was a damn good matchmaker. She'd matched herself with Sharon after all. 

Now he had a mixer to go to. No pressure, no awkward one-on-one talking, and the unspoken word was that if he wanted to get drunk and take a guy-or-two to the nearest hotel then no one would be able to testify about it in the morning. 

'Tell me how it goes in the morning ;)' is the message he gets from Nat as he steps into the foyer of the tapas restaurant where the Mixer was being held. He smirks at his phone, looks up, then stops dead in his tracks. 

He can't hide the dismay in his face when he sees Steve and Bucky, talking quietly to the maitre d' and checking over the guest list. The bar is otherwise empty, devoid of any other potential mixers. Steve and Bucky however, are dressed to the nines. Steve in a shirt, rolled up over his forearms the way that made Sam's mouth dry up, and Bucky in the leather jacket that made Sam breath a little funny. 

"Oh ah- I must have gotten the wrong place," Sam began taking a step back towards the door, fighting hard to keep his smile plastered on as he double checks his phone for the address. 

Two strong hands shoot out to stop him, one lands on his arm, the other his elbow, drawing him back in, "No, no Sam, doll, please."

"You gotta.. you gotta hear us out Sammy."

"This has been such a big mess,"Sam shook his head, leaning back to try and escape, though he really didn't have any fight in him at the dual pairs of big blue eyes pleading with his own, "I don't want to interrupt you two on your first date." 

 

"Us... two?" Steve and Bucky sounded equally incredulous, "What? Sam no!"

The maitre d' politely excused himself to the main dining room, shutting the door to afford them some privacy, and shoo away the waitstaff who were watching with rapt attention. 

Steve sighed, not sure if he wanted to laugh or cry, "Sam we're not.. we've never-" 

Sam looked up at the two of them, their faces wide open for him to read, "I just thought.. .since it was you know...That... you two were an item, or.. wanted to be" 

"Doll you can't be serious? He's like a brother to me, not my type," BUcky pleaded, grasping one of Sam's hands in both of his own, "You're the one I'm sweet on." 

"Yea Sam, you're my type. Why the hell else would I wear that tight shirt and run laps around you?"

"Why do you think you got such a nice rifle? Sam I've been trying to catch your eye since I got out of the fog." Bucky said with an earnest smile. 

"I was.. We were just too shy to say so" 

"We didn't know what to do if you turned us down." 

"But it's a better chance to just put it out there, than to let you get away. I couldn't live not knowing," Steve said, bringing Sam's hand up to kiss beseechingly. Bucky did the same ,"We're yours Sam Wilson, one the other, both, it doesn't matter. We just gotta know."

"Will you have us?" 

Sam took a deep breaht, all the pain and fear that he'd pushed deep down and away rushing up and out of him in a choked gasp, he was shivering with relief as he nodded, yanking them forward into a hug, "Yes, you two big-dumb-muscleheaded-no-good-"

Laughing, Steve kissed him first, full on the lips, stopping his tirade mid stream. Bucky followed with a kiss of his own, sweeping Sam literally off of his feet in a fit of laughter. 

 

The trio never did make it in past the maitre d', opting instead to go try room service at the Ritz. 

And in the end, Nat and Sharon enjoyed a wonderful night at the best tapas bar in New York.


End file.
